Page 83 of Wedding or Not

I was playing with the messy waves of his hair, but my hands grow still as I think about what he said. “I never thought about it that way before.”

“Well, you should. It sounds like you were taking the responsibility for the sex entirely on yourself, but that’s not how it works. If it’s good—really good—it comes from the way two people connect. Not on how skilled or talented one of them happens to be.”

“Maybe so.”

“Definitely so.” He scowls grumpily. “Those assholes didn’t deserve what you gave them if they complained.”

“They didn’t complain. They just didn’t seem… excited.”

“They should have been.”

“Maybe. But maybe I’ve been different with you.”

“Ah. Well, I hope that’s true, but even so, I’ve now put all three of those assholes on my enemy list.”

“Do you have an enemy list?”

“Of course I do. It’s Judd from school and this woman in my company who manipulated her way into the promotion that I’d earned. And also anyone who has ever hurt you.”

I’m so touched by the self-conscious admission that I pull him down into a hug. It’s slightly awkward since his head is still at the level of my breasts, but I don’t care.

I have to squeeze him. There’s too much feeling inside me to do anything else.

When I loosen my arms, he levers up to press a soft kiss on my lips. But he doesn’t get distracted from his earlier task and trails his mouth back down to my other nipple.

The pleasure surges so quickly I arch up and cry out sharply.

He chuckles over my breast.

“Don’t laugh,” I tell him, eagerly holding his head in place. “It wasn’t that loud.”

He gives me a little nip, making me release another cry.

This one might not have been truly loud, but it’s definitely not soft.

I really do try to contain my vocal responses, but they get more shameless and less inhibited as Wes kisses his way down my body.

And when his face ends up between my legs, his lips and tongue accomplishing miraculous feats there, even I have to admit some of the sounds I make are loud.

After I come three times, I turn us over, climb astride his body, and ride him until he comes too.

He likes me on top. He likes to be able to see my naked body from that angle as I bounce and sway. That’s what he says anyway. And I have no reason not to believe him.

He’s liked every single position we’ve tried this week on our honeymoon, and so have I.

We’ve tried a lot.

I always thought it was an exaggeration when couples say they spent most of a week in bed, but we’ve definitely spent at least half of our waking hours in various stages of foreplay, sex, or the breathless aftermath.

It’s the aftermath we’re enjoying right now. I’m curled up at his side, and he has his arm around me. It’s a little hot, but I don’t care. I still want to be as close to him as I can get.

“Do we actually have to go home?” Wes asks hoarsely after several minutes. He’s finally caught his breath, but his body is still limp and sated.

“I guess so. I don’t really want to either.”

It’s true. This week has been like something out of a fantasy.

We’re at a Caribbean island resort, far more luxurious and expensive than anything we would have chosen if we were paying the bill ourselves. But Natalie managed to get us one of the best suites at this resort for no charge on the condition that they’re allowed to use photos of us on their website and social media.